


Das Kreuz

by orphan_account



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Flug's past manages to catch up with him. Part of the Double-Agent!Dr. Flug AU.





	1. Chapter 1

Normally, Dr. Flug made breakfast for himself and the two other mortal employees of Black Hat Inc. It was usually something quick and simple; a couple of pieces of bacon and an egg or two fried in a skillet and often eaten right out of the pan. He wasn’t a very creative cook, but he wasn’t bad. Dementia didn’t really care, as she drowned everything in ketchup. If he had time, Flug would sometimes put breakfast in a little smiley face with eggs for eyes and bacon for a smile for 5.0.5.

5.0.5 had become so used to waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs that it served as an alarm clock. Today, strangely, was different.

The blue bear lay curled up on their beanbag in front of the fire, still half-asleep. Daylight shone through the window, but the familiar smell of bacon was nowhere to be found. Flug must have slept in today, probably too tired to get up for breakfast. 5.0.5 dozed off again, unconcerned.

They woke up sharply an hour later to Black Hat’s shouting. 5.0.5’s first instinct was to hide, but the villain had already found him by then.

“Where has Flug gone?” Black Hat’s anger was almost tangible, his form distorting with it and he grabbed 5.0.5 by the scruff. The bear whimpered sheepishly, attempting to explain they hadn’t seen Dr. Flug at all.

“He isn’t in his lab, his room, or anywhere else. I’ve torn this house from top to bottom, and he isn’t there!” Black Hat’s voice grew deeper and deeper, distorting into scratchy gibberish. He dropped 5.0.5, his claws clutching empty air. “If I find he tried to leave me, I’m going to eviscerate that low-down, cowardly-”

“Hey, Black Hat, I found something!”

The villain’s head snapped around 180 degrees to stare down Dementia, who stood in the doorway.

“This was in the mailbox. Seems like somebody’s trying to blackmail you.”

“Give me that! And how do you know it’s blackmail? You haven’t even opened it yet.” Black Hat tore the envelope from her hands and held it to eye level. The outside of it was solid black with no distinguishing markings besides a small white ß in the corner. “Well, it is black mail,” Black Hat muttered. He slit the top and pulled out the letter to read it aloud.

“Let’s see… ‘Dear Herr Hat, you may not know me, but I know your scientist, Dr. “Flug Slys” very well. I have taken him to an undisclosed location to exact my revenge on him. He will be returned dead in 2-4 business days unless $500,000 is delivered in an unmarked case to this location in the Swiss Alps… Yours Truly, the villain Schadenfreude.’“

The letter began to smoke from Black Hat’s grip, partially melting before dissolving into ash. The villain’s face remained unnaturally neutral. “Five hundred thousand…” he said softly. “Alright. That’s settled. I am going to eat him alive.”

5.0.5 whined.

“Do you have half a million dollars lying around, by chance?”

\---

“I knew it would just be a matter of time before I found you again.” Schadenfreude paced the floor of the dark, ruined warehouse, his green cape fluttering behind him to make a grand profile. “I knew you’d try to pull your little stunts again with someone else, Dr. ‘Plane Crash’.”

Flug didn’t respond. He half-stood, half-leaned against the wall, arms outstretched at right angles and clamped to metal rings. It was an awkward position that forced his bent legs to support his body. It didn’t matter, anyway. Schadenfreude would monologue no matter what Flug did or said.  
“Should I call you Dr. Lott, since that’s how you introduced yourself to me? Or perhaps you’d like to be addressed as Mr. Aster, like when you worked for my good friend Myrmeleon.” Schadenfreude stopped in front of Flug, reaching forward to hold the edge of his bag. “Coward. Hiding behind masks so no one knows who you are. Do you even know, doctor? Or has your own identity been buried beneath lies?”

“Stop it,” Flug wheezed. “Black Hat will kill you if he finds out that…”

“Oh no, doctor. I’m quite sure he could not care less about you.” Schadenfreude tore Flug’s bag right up the middle, stopping at his goggles. The villain traced the ragged scar across Flug’s chin. “Should I tell you what happened after you quit? About how it felt to wake up to a group of heroes in my own base, going on about my secret weakness. How an ordinary mixture of frozen dihydrogen monoxide and natrium chloride shuts down my powers. But you know that, don’t you?“

Flug averted the villain’s gaze, not just from intimidation, but from knowledge of how his powers worked. Schadenfreude could look into anyone’s eyes and dredge up any emotion he chose — fear, regret, panic, paranoia, even feelings of being separated from reality. Flug knew this from weeks of careful, covert study of the man. It was also how he discovered Schadenfreude’s weakness, which was subsequently sold to the villain’s biggest nemesis.

“You wanted to kill me. Well, it was just your luck the goody-two shoes you worked with just threw me in prison. They couldn’t even finish the job.” Schadenfreude marched off, his boots echoing on the metal floor. A bright rectangle of light appeared in the far wall, then slowly grew smaller. “Goodbye, Dr. Plane Crash. I won’t let you starve; I’m not heartless. You’ll die much quicker than that. Think about what you’ve done, in the meantime.”

In the meantime, Flug simply prayed. He didn’t beg for forgiveness or rescue, but strength. When he ran out of words to say, he simply thought.

The things one learned while working under villains was often morbid and not particularly useful, but Flug knew all to well about many types of torture. He had been forced to witness some. Being practically crucified had its own grim process and results, far more complex than simply dying of starvation or exposure.  
It started in his thighs.

Flug resisted the pain, counting seconds in his head to distract himself. It was barely five minutes until pain began to shoot through the muscle. He knew if he gave up, gravity would press down on his chest and suffocate him. Flug began to regret everything, thoughts swimming incoherently in his mind. Time spiraled away, out of his perception. The thief is sorry that he is to be hanged, not that he stole. Liars never prosper. He’d wanted to be a hero so badly, but it always came back around to the question of am I really going to put myself in the public eye like this? It would be easier to be covert. Working for villains just to turn their secrets over to those who could defeat them.

It sounded like the perfect way to be a hero. Flug’s face was soaked with tears, legs trembling. They were starting to cramp. A lonely death to match his lonely career in the world of heroes and villains. That would fit, wouldn’t it?

“Good, day, doctor!“

Great. Flug groaned inwardly. On top of slowly dying from suffocation, he was beginning to hallucinate. A wavy greenish figure was coming towards him, with some sort of tool in hand. “I decided that a nice, slow death was a little too merciful for you.” Schadenfreude lifted a pair of bolt cutters and broke the rings that held Flug to the wall. “I think I’ll finish you off now. I don’t want to leave room for error.”  
Flug slumped to the floor, gasping for breath before falling forward onto his hands. He stretched his limbs out as much as possible, shaking out the cramps. The florescent lights in the ceiling cast crisp shadows on the floor and Flug watched them, not daring to raise his head.

“I wonder how many villains perished after not having the foresight to kill their enemies,” Schadenfreude mused. He lowered the bolt cutters, opening them just above Flug’s neck. “Do you think I can snap off your head with these?”

The villain began to squeeze the cutters, carrying on with a signature evil laugh. Flug didn’t try to struggle, even as he felt his airway begin to close, blood trickling from his skin. It wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve. He should have known this would have happened. It was a silly, myopic, childish little fantasy to think he could wrong a villain like Schadenfreude and survive.

Flug hadn’t thought much about the afterlife, but he had assumed pain didn’t exist in it. Either he was wrong or — somehow — he was still alive, judging from the agony he was in.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him. It was matte black, with delicate purple patterns like a parade of top hats. They matched the sheets of the bed. Faint classic music wafted in from the next room.

So he was alive, after all.

“Doctor!” A green blob popped into Flug’s field of vision “You’re alive!” Dementia squealed, hugging Flug and smooshing her cheek against his head.

Flug flailed, trying to push her off. “Dementia! Don’t do that, that hurts-” Flug’s protests were muffled as 5.0.5 practically threw themself on top of the doctor, drowning Flug in blue fur and happy croons.

Flug sighed and gave in to the group hug, even with the shooting pains in his abdomen. “Yes, I’m alive, I’m as thankful as you are. Now please get off of me.”

Dementia and 5.0.5 drew away, the former dashing out of the room shouting for Black Hat, the latter resting their head on Flug’s arm. Flug touched his neck gingerly with a free hand, finding it bandaged. Confused, he drew his hand away and stared at the drop of blood on his glove. He wondered how in the world he had not only survived, but ended up back at manor. His mind conjured up an image of his co-workers and boss breaking down the warehouse door and beating Schadenfreude to a bloody pulp. He chuckled at the thought before going quiet again. A tiny flash of dread came up in his chest — what would Black Hat say now? Did he have any idea of what Flug was attempting?

“Good morning, doctor.” As if called, Black Hat materialized from thin air and loomed over the bed, grinning. “Would you like an aspirin?”

“I’d rather have a morphine drip.” Flug suddenly realized the lower part of his bag was missing, exposing his face. He put one hand over it quickly. “Did you… save me?”

“Of course I did, you fool. You that second-rate villain carried you back here himself?”

Flug made a small “oh” and fell quiet for a few moments. “Why?”

“Because-“ Black Hat paused for a moment. “Because you’re mine. You work for me. I need you. And I would rather have you alive than dead.” Another pause. “I like you, Flug.”

"You could have replaced me.”

“I would have needed to clone you then. I can’t simply replace my best scientist.” Black Hat leaned closer. “Unless you wanted to be left for dead in that warehouse. Did you?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Just what I wanted to hear!” Black Hat straightened up and turned on his heel. “Since I’m in a good mood, I decided you can have the day off, Flug. You’re going to need it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Black Hat eventually asked Flug the question the latter had been dreading.

“What did that second-rate villain want with you, anyway?” Black Hat sat at the table, behind the morning newspaper. There was a hard edge to his voice.

On the other side of the table, Flug’s blood ran cold. “I don’t know. M… maybe he wanted to claim my inventions for his own. Not that I would ever work for him, of course. I would never do that.” He drank his cereal through a straw, attempting to hide his nervousness. “Speaking of which, I did come up with a new draft for ultra-noise cancelling headphones last ni-”

“Don’t change the subject, Flug.” Black Hat remained hidden behind the paper. “No one in their right mind would attempt to steal from me. And no one would want your silly inventions in the first place.”

“Sir, I-” Flug paused. He was aware today would be his last day on earth if he told the truth, and his mind worked overtime to try and formulate some sort of excuse. “I… w-well, I have to admit I… wronged him. Years ago. It was an accident, really, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

The top of the newspaper tilted down just enough to let Black Hat watch Flug over it. “Oh, really. I’d love to hear this story.”

Flug swallowed. It was okay, he didn't have to tell the whole truth. It wasn't that bad, was it. "I used to work for Scahdenfreude. I... accidentally burnt down his base. I don't think he took it well, but I could've sworn he died anyway, so I didn't think of it. And that's why I wear the bag, too. I got burned." Not a complete lie. The bag was to simply hide Flug's identity, to make him harder to track down. The part about the burns wasn't true, though. "So... anyway."

Black Hat retreated behind the paper again with a hum. If he hadn't been dead before, Schadenfreude was certainly dead now. He couldn't have told Black Hat anything more. Hopefully, Black Hat wouldn't hear anything more from anyone else Flug had wronged, either.


End file.
